A Curse On Malfoy Manor
by threadfinjack
Summary: ON HIATUS. Hermione's work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement sends her to Wiltshire, to release Draco from a year of house arrest. When dark magic rises up out of the dust to haunt them, they become trapped in the dark manor house. Malfoy and Granger must deal with their old demons in order to fight the new.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I very obviously do not own any of the characters, settings or other concepts from JKR's Harry Potter series. **Update: ****I will be continuing the story and posting a new chapter by tomorrow morning.**

* * *

Hermione stifled a shudder as the gates of Malfoy Manor dissolved around her body. She had walked a half-mile to approach the gate without being magically detected, and yet as she passed she felt her magic being scrutinized. She actually shrieked as an albino peacock burst out of a nearby shrub and ran across the gravel path. As she walked, she noticed that the manor's grounds were unkempt. The windows were dirtier than they had appeared before, and ivy, once potted neatly in iron trellises, was overtaking everything. For lack of a better word, Malfoy Manor seemed _wild._

She had to fight the urge to turn and run as she made her way to the dark front doors. She'd asked for this assignment specifically, trying to prove that age was no measure of ability. After a year in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she expected more trust, especially after helping Harry Potter defeat Lord Voldemort in what was supposed to have been her seventh year. What she hadn't expected was the Ministry agreeing to let her go alone.

Hermione's knuckles thudded dully against the heavy wooden doors, and she wondered if her knocking even passed through to the other side. When no bedraggled house-elves appeared to let her inside, she figured it had to be so. After another minute of knocking, Hermione swore she heard a crash from the left wing of the house. She then chose to use her government authority and Gryffindor disregard for rules to break and enter into Malfoy Manor.

"Malfoy?" The entryway was dark, and none of the adjoining passages looked occupied. The darkness was heavy, even though her wand was lit. She swore to double his criminal sentence if he attacked her now. "On behalf of the Ministry, I'm here to tell you that your house arrest is _- _" She was cut off by a shout and a muffled banging noise above her head. It was as if someone was throwing furniture around on the floor above._  
_

Senses on full alert, Hermione raised her wand and surveyed the dim manor house. Pale sheets were draped all over the room, covering rows of couches and paintings that lay discarded in the corners of the home. She let her hand ghost across the lip of a porcelain vase and marveled at the layer of dust that came away on her fingertips. She couldn't imagine the Malfoys letting dirt pervade their things.

Another series of bangs from upstairs caused her to startle and knock the vase over. Hermione swore and urgently fixed the undoubtedly priceless heirloom. It was chillingly silent in the dark house now, and it gave her courage to move forward. _Surely he_ _knows I'm here now,_ she thought.

It took a while to navigate the downstairs by wand light, but Hermione finally found a staircase. She'd almost made it to the landing when a pale figure darted out of a side room and into the hall in front of her. Shocked, she yelped and stumbled backwards, falling down the flight of stairs and blacking out at the bottom.

_I've gone blind. _Hermione's eyes fluttered open and for a moment, the world was black. Her head was throbbing, as was her shoulder. She couldn't see a thing. She sat up and began fumbling for her wand, and let out a cry when she felt nothing nearby. For a moment, she sat desolately on the ground, cursing Malfoy and his stupid house for getting her into this mess.

Then someone pulled a heavy curtain from a window to her left, brightening the room. Hermione inhaled sharply as Draco Malfoy approached her on the ground.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded sharply. "How'd you get inside?" Malfoy loomed over her, his eyes wide and wary. His face was in half-relief, thanks to the moonlight outside, and he looked ghostly. He appraised her, breathing as if he'd just gotten back from Quidditch practice.

"What?" Wand or not, Hermione stood up and took a step away from him.

"You're making a huge mistake," he continued, whispering harshly. His eyes darted around the room as he spoke.

"Malfoy, what are you going on about? Where's my wand?" She stood clumsily, wincing at the pain in her head.

"It appears you've broken it," he said flatly. "I'm being serious. This house is dangerous, Granger."

She exhaled and crossed her arms, expecting him to smugly reveal her wand at any moment. "This house? _Dangerous_? You're telling me, Malfoy." His eyes darted to her arm, and she stepped away coldly. She'd been trying very hard to avoid the thought of her scar and how the anniversary of its appearance on her arm had just come to pass. "The Ministry sent me here to release you."

He chuckled bitterly at her response. "Out? That's a laugh, Granger. I haven't been able to get out since - "

A loud crash rang out from the room right next to them. "Since that." Only pausing for a second, Malfoy grabbed her hand and pulled her as he ran into the next room. She managed to wrench her arm from his grasp when he slowed down and she spun around.

"If you would give me my _wand, _Malfoy, I would have Apparated us out of here!" Part of her was hoping he was lying about her wand, but another feared he was telling the truth. And the bigger question was, why did he sound as upset about it as she'd felt when he told her?

"I told you, you broke it, and you can't leave," he shot back. "When my parents died and I returned to the manor, something happened. I've tried to leave, I've tried contacting the Ministry, I've tried bloody _everything_ and yet here we are, trapped."

"_What have you done?" s_he shrieked. He leapt forward and covered her mouth with his hand, ignoring her struggle. He grabbed her arm with his other hand roughly.

"Shut up," he hissed. "They can _hear_ _you shouting_. And before you ask, I'm referring to the ghosts of Malfoys past. They got a hold of the family's dark artefacts, and they've been attacking me for a while now. It wasn't terrible until they stole my wand, and yes, that's right,' he spat, narrowing his eyes at her, "we're both wandless."

Hermione whimpered in fright, and Malfoy felt her involuntary shiver. He was suddenly aware of her lips on his palm. His eyes shifted a little as he slowly released her from his grip. He was standing much too close for comfort. "Please, Granger," he pleaded, looking half-disgusted and half-something Hermione couldn't name. "For Merlin's sake, get me out of here."

She stared at him and the way the moonlight made his hair seem to glow white instead of blonde. "Is my wand really broken?" She asked quietly. He nodded, and she thought she saw a twinge of sympathy swirl in his eyes. Then again, she thought, her wand was probably his last hope.

Another crash came from down the hall and made them both jump, but what scared Hermione more was the way his voice had wavered as he said her name. _Whatever scared Malfoy_, she reasoned, _was truly worth running from. C_ollecting herself suddenly, Hermione stepped away from him and towards the door.

"Well then," she said, filling her voice with false bravado and authority, "it's time to go find your wand, then, isn't it?" His eyes narrowed at her as she opened the door, but he followed close behind.

* * *

"Would you stop breathing down my throat like that?" he hissed without turning his head to look at her. There was almost no use in trying, the light was so scarce. "You should be thankful I'm even letting you follow after breaking into my home."

"Oh, my apologies, Malfoy," she said, sarcastically curtsying even though he couldn't see her. "Sorry I came here to free you from your imprisonment."

"Fat lot of good that was," he commented, walking faster. She huffed to keep up with his longer strides. "As it stands now, I really don't see how you following me is going to help me survive the night."

"And these are the words of a so-called reformed Death Eater!" she commented. "After all the work we did on your behalf to keep you from Azkaban, after everything Harry told the court about your mother, you still consider me so worthless?"

He stopped walking and she nearly ran into him as a result. He rounded on her quickly. "Do not mention my mother again, or I will leave you where you stand." He turned back around and began to walk even faster, intent on leaving her behind. Unfortunately a lifetime of keeping up with Harry and Ron left Hermione quite used to speed walking, and still she followed. After minutes of silence ebbed away her anger, she tried to look around.

"Where are we now, Malfoy? How much more of this house is there to search?"

"I lost my wand in the upstairs parlor, when they surprised me. Merlin knows I'll be lucky if it's not broken or hidden when we get there." They traveled quietly up a flight of stairs and made their way into another room of sheet-covered furniture. "Stay by the door," he ordered as he dropped to the floor and began searching. The curtains in this room were open, and the moon cast sharp shadows on the floor.

"Wouldn't it be more help if I - "

"_Ssh."_

Hermione huffed indignantly and waited near the doorway, watching his silhouette cut between the shadows. After a moment, the pale glow of wand light lit up the far corner, and she couldn't help but sigh a breath of relief. She hardly had time to inhale again when he sent several spells flying toward the door, slamming it closed and locked in an instant. The curtains shut of their own accord, and Malfoy busied himself with muttering more spells under his breath. From what Hermione could hear, they were wards.

"Are you _mad?"_ She asked him. "Why didn't you just Apparate us outside and off the grounds?"

"I've told you, you idiot, I can't," he snottily replied. "Have you listened to a word of what I've said to you?"

"Why are you so afraid of them?" she asked suddenly. This threw Malfoy off, and he didn't answer. "What are we barricaded in here against, exactly?"

Something about her softened tone made him bristle; he could practically hear the gears turning in her head. He saw that a small trickle of blood had made its way down the side of her temple from when she fell, and he focused on that as he responded.

"The Malfoys have lived here for centuries, with several guards put in place to ensure that no blood traitor was treated to a hospitable night's stay," he explained bitterly. "My return after the Dark Lord's fall must have triggered something. The entire year I've spent in this house has been spent avoiding an encounter with my ancestors. I'll give the Ministry one thing," he added with a dark chuckle, "their punishments are certainly effective."

"But how are ghosts using dark magical objects to attack you? How do they know that you've come and gone, and what do you mean you contacted the Ministry? We haven't heard a word from you or any situation involving a family curse," Hermione questioned him.

"Yeah, well next time I'll remember to send you the Malfoy family library before I get cursed," he responded sarcastically. "Bet you'd sit in here all night reading if it got us free." He almost continued berating her, but then they both heard a thump from downstairs.

"Not too bright, are they?" She countered, smirking a little despite herself. Malfoy wasn't sure if it was a slight at his family, but he couldn't say he disagreed. "Look, Malfoy, I want to get out of her just as badly, if not more, as you do. I'm willing to work together to do that." She stuck out her hand between them, waiting. He appraised her for a moment before grabbing it again, waving his wand to open the door and pulling them out into the dark again.

"Just remember you asked for it, Granger."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I do not own any of the characters, settings or other concepts from JKR's Harry Potter series. If I did, I doubt the series would have ever been completed. Thank you for your reviews and for following this story! Please continue to let me know how it reads and whether you feel my favorites are being characterized properly. I'm not sure how many chapters there will be, but I'll be sure to let you know when I get close.**  
**

EDIT: As of 6/23/13, this chapter has been updated and adjusted a little!

* * *

Draco cursed under his breath as he navigated the halls of his childhood home with Granger in tow. Her constant questions made the room seem smaller, and he had to keep himself from jumping out the window. It wasn't so much the bossy undercurrent in Granger's voice as it was the entire mad situation he found himself in. It had been little over a year since Draco Malfoy had seen anyone from Hogwarts, and he'd been hoping to keep the tradition going.

After Harry Potter's famous defeat of Voldemort at the so-named Battle of Hogwarts, Draco and his family ran. They ran from danger, yes, but they were running from both sides of a war that they feared would continue long after Voldemort's name left the papers. Draco wasn't naive enough to believe that the Death Eaters would surrender easily once their leader was gone, and yet he knew there was no way to redeem his family's name. He'd tried it himself once.

Shortly before the final defeat of the Dark Lord, Draco cornered his favorite Professor in an old hallway of Hogwarts. Headmaster Severus Snape knew that Draco was more terrified and aware of the war than he chose to let on, even without Legilimency. With weeks of training and careful trust-building, hell itself froze over and Draco himself became a spy for the Order of the Phoenix.

It was hard for Draco to stand in the same room as the people he'd repeatedly tormented, cursed and worked to destroy in your past. Working closely with them and being given more trust and true responsibility than he'd ever known was even worse. He considered himself impossibly lucky when the war ended shortly after, and he was able to return to his family. They alone had given him the power to rebel when being a pureblood meant duty above all else.

Like everything else Draco did, it hadn't been enough.

His father was unfortunate enough to receive the Kiss for his war crimes, and his mother never survived the loss.

Yet somehow, the Order couldn't leave Draco to his misery and loneliness. Potter spoke on Draco's behalf when it came time for the Wizengamot to try the youngest Malfoy as an adult. The Dark Mark on his arm had faded the hour Voldemort's body hit the ground, but that was all. Blood had splashed onto Draco's hands during the war, and it didn't matter to them that he hadn't spilled it; he could never wash it off. Draco remembered listening to Harry at his trial and marveling at the fact that they were now both orphans. He'd never considered the thought before; he'd never had to face true aloneness in the world. He'd nearly forgotten to pay attention to his sentencing that day, and he remembered nearly drowning in the judging eyes of the courtroom when he received a lenient sentencing. One year's house arrest was nothing compared to what wizarding London thought he deserved.

Draco thought they'd be laughing if they could only see him now.

"Malfoy?" Granger's voice came from across the room now, and he craned his neck to find her. He was seated on the floor next to the window in case something came through the door, and she'd been wandering. _Should have known better than to let Granger loose in a library,_ he thought.

"Malfoy," she called again, "are any of these books even useful? I've found an awful lot about your family's ancestry and 17th century wizarding law, but nothing about curses." She approached him with two books under her arm and eyed him warily. "You're not planning on sitting in here forever, are you?"

"I don't see why not," he replied, "and how should I know? Does it look like this room has been used in the last decade?"

She huffed in response and dropped to the floor in front of him, placing the books between them. She grabbed one, crossed her legs and began reading without another word to him. He stared at her for a moment and began reading an ancient copy of _A Guide to Medieval Sorcery_ when she didn't have the courtesy to glare back at him. As time passed, he felt himself growing more paranoid. He hadn't paid attention to the text at all, because s_urely_ Granger had heard that last noise coming from the north too. He looked up to find her worried eyes staring back at his.

They both sat on the floor, craning their necks and listening intently. The lamps he'd lit before were casting a steady yellow glow throughout the room, and he thought he preferred the dim moonlight. Having lights on meant they couldn't watch for shadows passing underneath the door. He surprised himself by filling the labored silence with his own voice.

"They take on solid shapes," he started, trying wrack his brain for useful information. "They got into some of the family's oldest objects - don't give me that look, Granger, they were _locked away_."

"Well that's obvious, if they're solid manifestations," she replied knowingly. "How are you sure they're ghosts?"

"I stopped and asked them, what do you think?" Something in him prickled with delight at riling her up, even when it didn't help his situation. He supposed that the familiar routine helped him to cope.

"You shouldn't be so quick to dismiss other possibilities. It says here that they could be something else," she shot back haughtily, catching him off-guard. She shoved the book between them and pointed to a line on the page.

"In the late 17th century, muggles and muggleborns suffered the most blatant prejudice and persecution at the hands of pureblooded wizards. Several families in power showed their dislike for such kinds of wizarding folk publicly, and used positions in the ministry and other offices to reform the wizarding community. Brutus Malfoy, born 1675, was known for his criticism and ill regard - "

"What a surprise Granger, you found a book about the Malfoys in the Malfoy family records, how charming - "

" -towards muggleborn society in London. The great-grandson of Lucius Malfoy the first, Brutus Malfoy, inherited Malfoy Manor upon his seventeenth birthday, and began to - "

"Get to the good part, for Merlin's sake," he groaned. It was bad enough she was reading out loud.

" - _and began to study dark magic for the purpose of guarding his family from the dangers of inferior magical beings." _She continued pointedly. "Sounds like he created his own Chamber of Secrets right beneath your floorboards. Didn't count on it backfiring when a Malfoy did the proper thing for once, did he?"

"I'll ignore that last bit," he said, "because it almost sounded like a compliment, and kind words coming out of your mouth on my behalf signifies that all hope is lost. Be useful for once and get to the point."

"It's nothing new, really," she replied. "You said that a curse was enacted when you returned to the manor, and this book doesn't specifically list any curses. It's not as if this Malfoy kept a diary for us to scour through. What have you already tried?"

"Like I've said, there's no way to Apparate out or in, although there's been no real way for me to test that, as I've been trapped here," he sneered. "There's a thick old ward around the land that's trapping us here, I can feel it."

"There are loads of ways to reach out to someone if you wanted to," she suggested.

"Do you honestly think I returned to a fully-stocked and prepared home after the war, Granger? I know you're not stupid enough to need a reminder of who our last guests were." He shuddered thinking of the dining room. He hadn't set foot in there since. "There's no Floo powder, no owls, nothing to get word out. It's been me against whatever dark magical beings are floating around downstairs for a while now."

"What about parole officers? Did no one come to check on you?" There was a startling lack of bite in her words as she questioned him, and he didn't like it. Granger was always so sincere when she was learning.

"Honestly, I'm beginning to wish you'd gone back to study like Potter and the Weasel, Granger, do you even know how the Ministry works? There aren't a dozen Ministry workers who care enough to come here and pay me a personal visit. They have ways of checking on me while staying comfortable at their desks."

Hermione was silent at that, he noticed. She simply nodded and looked at the floor.

"Don't lose sleep over it, Granger, I've survived thus far. Although, the attacks did grow much more violent the moment you came here, so I suppose that might be worth losing sleep for."

"Oh, honestly," she said, getting up and walking away from Draco as he sat smirking on the floor. "Excuse me for being human."

* * *

A long hour passed and Draco found himself staring out the window, at the grounds of Malfoy Manor. The moon was making its way over the downland, throwing long shadows across the stone path that snaked its way across the grass. What had once been his mother's prized garden was now overgrown and desolate, if not predatory. Draco didn't know what kind of magical plants lay hidden in their yard, but it was as if they had all united to reclaim the land for good. He found a strange humor in the way the weeds and roses tangled together.

"I meant it when I said we couldn't stay in here forever, Malfoy," Granger said. She'd come up behind him when he wasn't looking, and the closeness of her voice startled him. He jumped involuntarily, and felt his elbow connect with some part of her face. By the time he'd righted himself, she was muttering curses and clutching her nose.

"Shit, Granger, I - " he started, before he caught himself. She stuck a hand into the air, warning him to stay away, and he saw a line of blood trail down on her fingers. A shudder ran up his spine, but he'd be damned if he let her say he attacked her on purpose. Draco stepped forward and pulled the other hand away from her nose, ignoring her protest. "Just let me look at it, Granger, what do you think I'm going to do?"

"Make it worse!" She cried. The bridge of her nose was swollen and starting to bruise; he wondered if he'd broken it.

"Tell me how to heal it, Granger. You're bleeding everywhere."

"How inconsiderate of me."

"Just_ tell me how to heal it, Granger," _he ground out.

Hermione started a silent stare-down with him then, to which he happily obliged. A minute later she huffed and muttered a healing spell under her breath. The way she said it made it sound like a curse, but he tried it. Immediately the bleeding stopped, and the bruises faded. She looked up at him angrily and sniffled, testing the injury. Then Draco seemed to temporarily lose control of his limbs. He slowly raised his thumb to her cheek and wiped clean a spot of blood that had remained on her face. She stood dumbstruck for a moment before clumsily backing away.

"Thanks," she said. _That sounded like a curse too, _he thought.

"Look," he said awkwardly, moving to put more distance between them. As it was, he was unsettled by being so close to her, and it addled his brain. He was doing his best not to think of how her blood had looked black in the dim light. He couldn't imagine anything so _dark_ coming from Hermione Granger, no matter how his parents had raised him. "You said it yourself, we're not going to find our way out of here reading these books. We need to keep moving."

Hermione glanced at him and hesitantly nodded. The lack of sleep was starting to get to her, but she refused to let him see her weakness. If he did, he might leave her behind, and she didn't trust herself in a house full of malevolent pureblood magic. He took her silence as acquiescence and made for the door, leaving the books on the ground. She followed him again, though not as close as before.

"I meant it, you know," she said quietly as they walked down the hall. "Thank you." She looked him in the eye when she said it, and he couldn't find it in him to do anything more than nod and keep walking.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: It feels like it's been so long since I've posted! I'm planning on getting something out at least weekly, and part of that is thanks to the encouragement from your reviews! Thanks again for the notes and the follows, and please keep letting me know after you've finished a chapter! I spent a lot of time at the beach and away from my computer last week, but now I've figured some things out plot-wise and I'm ready to go again.

**This follows DH up to Harry, Ron and Hermione returning to Grimmauld Place. The location is not revealed, and the order continues to use it during the Second Wizarding War.**

Disclaimer: Does this look like J.K. Rowling's writing to you? Do _I_ look like J.K. Rowling to you?

* * *

"What are you - is that a _book? _I specifically told you that staying in one place and studying was a wonderful way to get our heads bashed in!"

Draco had been trying to forge ahead in a darkness only countered by his wand light - he hadn't bothered to slow down and see whether Hermione was behind him, or why she was being so quiet. When he finally had looked, she'd been walking with her nose in a book she'd nicked from upstairs. He had no idea where she'd kept it, but it was ridiculous. _Gryffindors and their shit sense of self-preservation, _he thought.

"It's just one!" Hermione had countered, holding one palm on top of the pages and one underneath to secure the book as she glanced up. It might help!"

Draco scoffed in reply, brushing hair off his brow. "_It's just one,"_ he whined, mocking her tone. "Unless that useless pile of paper can fight monsters and break curses, I doubt it will help." He stopped walking and tried to bat the book out of Hermione's hands as she approached. His fingertips swiped the top corner of hers before she pulled the book to her chest protectively.

"Stop it! Why is it that you reflexively lash out at anyone who tries to help you?"

"Oh, quit taking everything so seriously, Granger. You act as if we're imprisoned in a dark mansion, constantly pursued by ghostly creatures, or something."

"No," Hermione said, abruptly stopping and snapping the book shut. She turned to face him and pointed the corner up at his pale face. "I'm not going to stop! After so _many _months of us trying and trying to get over every bad thing your family aligned with so eagerly, you're choosing to act like the obnoxious, bigoted person you were in school! Is it that you think we don't know what it's like to grieve? Is it that we couldn't possibly understand loss or regret or being embarrassed publicly? Didn't we take part in the same war you did? Don't you remember being there with us, through the blood and the dirt and the death?"

The book slammed to the floor as Hermione pivoted and strode away into the dark. Draco's breath was coming out in harsh, shallow pants, and his knuckles were white against his fists. He thought he'd rather die before following her, but he did remember.

* * *

_A little less than a year ago..._

Draco couldn't remember ever feeling so breathless. The Order finally trusted him enough to send him on an actual mission, and he jumped at the chance to get away from the curious gazes in Grimmauld Place.

He knew the Order was lucky that the Golden Trio had reclaimed use of Grimmauld Place, even in it's terrifying state. Even the portraits on the walls here seemed to glare at him as if they were judging his soul, and there was no use trying to pull them off the walls. He was to accompany three of the Weasley brothers, Ron, Bill and Charlie, on a mission to the Ministry of Magic - they'd arrived months ago, and were the best prepared to travel by broom.

Covered in Invisibility Cloaks stolen from a Ministry storage place, Draco had flown with the Weasley brothers to survey the state of Wizarding London's government district. It was the freest he had felt in years, and it almost took his breath away. If he'd wanted to, he could have turned and flown until he saw nothing but glittering oceans under him. He didn't, but the thought drew him closer to happiness than he had ever felt.

From high up in the air, everything looked completely normal, but they'd been able to more personally follow some of the employees and obtain more information. For a week Draco, Ron, Bill and Charlie had studied three male Ministry workers from different departments; for another, they had impersonated them. When they returned, he felt strong enough to look Remus Lupin in the eyes and report on the status of the Ministry.

Draco refrained from tugging on his worn collar as he glanced around the kitchen table. This time, the eyes in Grimmauld Place were staring expectantly instead of derisively. He wasn't sure it made him feel better.

"Everyone comes and goes normally," he started, taking a deep breath to steady his voice. "It doesn't seem as if many are aware that the Death Eaters have infiltrated, because they didn't respond to any of my prompting."

"Mine either," Charlie agreed. Bill stood in the corner, nodding his head as Draco spoke. They each explained their role in impersonating Ministry workers, who they had come in contact with and what they had spoken about. Most of the Order had sat listening thoughtfully to their stories or asking questions about the goings-on, especially Arthur Weasley and Remus. After only a few minutes, though, Ron interrupted them.

"Show them what you found, Malfoy," he urged impatiently, laying his broom aside. "We think it's important."

Draco nodded and gulped, pulling a large newspaper out of his pocket. He flattened the creases of it on the table and read aloud to the group. **Dolores Umbridge Receives New Promotion: New Magical Thefts Investigated By Former Hogwarts Headmaster.** The large, frog-faced woman stood smiling and blushing smugly as cameras flashed all around her. She stood behind a podium so tall, it almost blocked her completely. She must have had to stand on books to be seen.

"Look there, on her neck," Draco gestured. It was hard to see details in the small black-and-white photograph, but Dolores Umbridge wore a gaudy bejeweled necklace around her collar. "Is that anything like what you've been looking for?"

Arthur Weasley let out a ragged breath, and Hermione had actually gasped. Harry stood up and inspected the image closely, trying to avoid the beady, leering eyes of his old professor, as if she could see him as well.

"It certainly looks like it," Kingsley Shacklebolt commented from the side of the room. Malfoy backed away from the table as Order members started to surround the newspaper, hissing questions at each other as if the house could suddenly hear them. Bill Weasley clapped his shoulder lightly as he walked away, and Draco hoped he hadn't felt him stiffen up in response.

Although the numerous Order members bustled about during the day, night was a different story. At night Grimmauld Place was as lonely and dark as Draco's mind, and no amount of assurances or job-well-dones could ease his fears. Draco took to wandering the halls at night.

In the end, he always ended up at the kitchen table. He kept his fingers busy by tracing the rings and bumps on the surface, for there were many. The grooves and swirls in the wood reminded him of the ceiling of the Great Hall in Hogwarts at night, when the wind blew and the clouds swept over the stars.

"Must be very different from your dining room at the Manor," Hermione said softly as she entered the room. She hadn't said it with any bite, and she'd made enough noise to let him know she was approaching. She was being purposefully nice to him. "I caught a splinter on it last week."

Draco didn't look up at her as she sat down a couple rows away from him. He continued to slowly trace a deep burn mark in the wood.

"I think you boys did brilliantly. I can't believe you've found a - you've found one. After spending so much time thinking it would just be Harry, Ron and I," she confessed, more to the kitchen sink than to him, "I guess I'd say it's nice to have something small like this going for you. To not be alone."

Draco gave a very small nod of the head to the table and tried to keep his lip from curling. She noticed anyway.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm sitting up talking to you," she added, scooting her chair back. "I know you didn't come down here to listen to me." She got up before he could even entertain the thought of asking her to stay. _Even Granger was better than nobody sometimes_.

* * *

Draco didn't have anything resembling a conversation with Hermione for another couple of weeks. During that time, he had learned to marginally lower his defenses and not turn to run out of any room with more than three people in it. Every so often, someone cornered him into a conversation about strategy or potions work, and he did his best to help without being rude. He was trying to be grateful, but he preferred to simply be around people between his missions, rather than converse with them.

Then his and Hermione's quiet routine began. She'd come down and find him tracing table rings, and she'd leave within ten minutes of sitting down. He didn't think it was important and it never created any real sort of _bond_ between them but it was better than being alone. _At least she knew exactly when to leave, _Draco thought. Every so often one of them would be sent on a mission, but the routine picked up again when each returned.

With the passage time came trust, and with trust came more work for Draco to carry out. Most of the Order was thoroughly convinced of his change, if not his motivations. When he wasn't away, he gave them information about the Death Eaters' hierarchy, their old connections and hideouts, whatever he could. He even gave them Malfoy Manor, in a manner of sorts.

"To the north in Wiltshire, a couple of kilometers from the coast," he pointed, correcting Lupin's mark on a map. "Showing you doesn't make it Plottable again, but at least you can travel closely. You might be able to see who comes and goes. It's unlikely," he explained, "but you might."

Bill Weasley clapped him on the back again and the men gathered around the map to strategize. Malfoy showed them how to navigate the country, which places to avoid and how to best prepare for any curses. He taught them where to find potions ingredients when Ministry regulations made it too suspicious to purchase goods. Draco Malfoy felt like he was doing something important, finally.

But soon a night full of fire and stone came to the grounds of Hogwarts, and a single breath of dawn appeared to take away the last fragments of Lord Voldemort's soul. Harry Potter was alive, the Dark Lord was dead and miraculously, Draco and his family were left standing relatively unscathed. Draco walked slowly through the rubble, craning his neck to search for the white-blond of his father's hair. He saw his parents across the courtyard and began to run to them, but a small hand caught his elbow.

"Draco, wait!" Hermione's fingers pulled at his dirty cloak and made him stumble in the dirt. "Where are you running t- oh." Her eyes traveled across his right shoulder. "Oh." All at once, her voice took on the hardness that he had experienced when Severus introduced him formally to Grimmauld Place. Draco heard fatigue and betrayal in her voice, and it ripped at something in his weary lungs. He pulled his arm away.

"Did you think I was fighting for anything else, Granger?" he said quietly. Hermione shook her head, and walked away from him for what he expected was the last time.

* * *

A/N: Again, sorry that the changes might be hard to follow. I know this chapter was a lot of backstory, and a lot of new information, but I plan on picking back up in the present soon! Please continue to review and let me know what you think about plot, dialogue and characterization especially. You're all wonderful for reading and encouraging me so much! I'll try to make the next chapter longer, and should be posting again very soon!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I do not own any of the characters, settings or concepts that J.K. Rowling created, and I don't want to pretend to.

* * *

_But soon a night full of fire and stone came to the grounds of Hogwarts, and a single breath of dawn appeared to take away the last fragments of Lord Voldemort's soul. Harry Potter was alive, the Dark Lord was dead and miraculously, Draco and his family were left standing relatively unscathed. Draco walked slowly through the rubble, craning his neck to search for the white-blond of his father's hair. He saw his parents across the courtyard and began to run to them, but a small hand caught his elbow._

_"Draco, wait!" Hermione's fingers pulled at his dirty cloak and made him stumble in the dirt. "Where are you running t- oh." Her eyes traveled across his right shoulder. "Oh." All at once, her voice took on the hardness that he had experienced when Severus introduced him formally to Grimmauld Place. Draco heard fatigue and betrayal in her voice, and it ripped at something in his weary lungs. He pulled his arm away._

_"Did you think I was fighting for anything else, Granger?" he said quietly. Hermione shook her head, and walked away from him for what he expected was the last time._

* * *

Draco went to look for Hermione in the place she always hid when she was angry. True, he'd given her a good twenty minute head start while he seethed in frustration, and she could have wandered anywhere in the dark manor, but there was really nowhere else for Hermione to go. He took the long way up to the library very purposefully, because they'd been lucky to avoid the uncovered portraits thus far.

When Draco had first returned home, he'd found the painted portraits that hung throughout the manor were far less appreciative of his general presence than they had been. The Malfoy ancestors sneered with hatred as he passed their portraits, somehow well aware of what had changed within him during his absence - perhaps more so than his own conscious self. Their eyes stabbed at his with an unnatural cold. It was like being near a Dementor; the weight of their judgement made him feel cold and small.

It fed his anger, too. Being bound to his home with no means of escape or helpful contact had made Draco defiantly aggressive, and for a while it felt like the house was simply raging alongside him. Once he'd torn an entire room apart before stopping to think.

After a while, Draco had caught himself thinking about his hands as they ripped fixtures from the wall and threw them into the fireplace. He was noticing the strangest things, like the scratches on the backs of his hands and small imperfections in the moulding on the walls. Suddenly the effort of being furious had become too much for him; Draco had opted to lie down on the floor and stare at nothing at all for as long as possible.

* * *

Hermione scoffed when he cheerfully called her name through the library door. She'd seated herself next to it, partly so he could find her easily and partly so she could trip him when he entered.

"If you were really trying to hide, you'd have made sure your light didn't show through the door," he murmured. His voice was muffled as it carried through the crack between the door and the frame. She turned her page, willfully ignoring him.

"Fine. Anyone taking refuge in my library should know I'm not out here endangering my life to apologize," he continued boldly. She felt him settling his weight against the door with his shoulder. "We both know it would be worthless, coming from an obnoxious bigot like myself, although come to think of it," he continued, his tone sharpening suddenly, "I suppose you think I owe you something. I bet you pounced and _clawed_ for the chance to come here and make me squirm beneath your righteous foot!"

Hermione drew a breath to protest, but she could not rearrange his words and form a lie. She _had_ come here to be smug and domineering as she let him free. How many times had he been saved by those he fought against? She hadn't wanted him to lose count.

"I knew Weasley's head grew large with all the post-war press attention, but damn, Granger," he chuckled coldly, jarring her again. "You've never been more disappointing."

Hermione threw open the door and met him head on, both of their mouths curled and ready for war. If she'd only had her wand, she thought, it would be jutting into his collarbone just now. She opened her mouth to verbally assault him, but a large bang sounded just meters to their left and cut her off.

"Hermione." Draco's tone and expression had changed again to a warning, and she was having none of it.

"I don't _care!_" She cried, stepping forward and throwing the door shut behind her. "I don't care about anything concerning you, Malfoy! You're a scared little bully, and I won't be your target any longer." She carried two heavy books with one arm, shielding herself from him and considering them as weapons simultaneously. "Besides, you're the only one here with a wand," she said harshly. "Isn't that just how you've always wanted it?" Another loud bang, and even Hermione jumped involuntarily. Despite the bravery her anger provided, she was ready to run._  
_

"It's a fucking dream come true, Granger," he spat back. "Of _course _that's what you believe, isn't it? You are so bloody eager- " a crash, even louder, "to expect the absolute worst of anyone- " the sound of glass breaking on wood, rang out around the corner, "so long as you don't have to deal with the possibility of being wrong or having to _change_!"

Hermione stood frozen and exhausted with fury, waiting for whatever had been chasing them to finally make itself known and finally end her nightmare. She simply didn't expect there to be so many of them when they turned the corner and made their appearance on cue.

All of them were ghostly blonde, more so than Malfoy himself. Hermione could not count them properly - as they approached their shapes blurred, shifting together and apart again like a wild ocean current. They certainly looked solid enough when they weren't melting into each other, and they moved quickly. Hermione's eyes grew large with fright, and it only took one look over his shoulder for Draco to grab her wrist and tear off down the stairs again.

"Let go of me!" Hermione screamed, trying to wrench her arm free even as she ran down the corridor beside him. "We were just shouting bloody murder at each other!"

"Can't argue if we're dead," he countered, speeding up and pulling her along. He blasted a door open and used their momentum to throw Hermione down the stairs before them. Her speed kept her upright as he locked it shut and tumbled down after her.

* * *

The silence grew as their heartbeats slowed, and after some time, Draco couldn't take it any longer. It didn't seem to bother Hermione at all; she was reading _again_. "Are those important?"

The way he made sure to keep any interest out of his drawl made it clear to her that he was curious. She was in no mood to engage him again. She'd tried to keep silent last time, even though his words were sandpaper against her ribcage. Was she so afraid to be wrong? Hermione knew it couldn't be true, especially given her mistakes in the war.

Draco stared at her for a moment, willing a pertinent response to come from her lips before snatching up the book that lay on the ground. He flipped through the pages and found most of it was written in Latin. "These aren't even spellbooks."

"They're historical," she said finally, warning him not to test her.

"Treat me to a history lesson, then," he replied, settling back on his elbows and crossing his feet. The basement floor was cold and dirty, but then so was he. He glanced around, taking stock of the room as if taking inventory. If only Granger knew what lay below the floorboards just ten years prior, he thought. There remained only a few dark objects here; the rest of the basement contained furniture and valuables his mother had deemed unfit for company to see.

Draco could appreciate the centuries of priceless junk that sat scattered around them. Malfoys from ages long gone had stowed treasures of material and magical value, adding to the family fortune without ever setting foot in Gringotts. There were paintings here too, he remembered, but all broken and torn. They had more means of defense in this basement than in any room upstairs. An obvious thought occurred to Draco then, and he voiced it.

"I think I know how to fix your wand problem," Draco said suddenly. Hermione raised an eyebrow, too guarded to hope.

"Oh really?" He barely heard the contempt in her voice as he rushed away. Good riddance, she thought, though she could no longer read. She watched his light move about the large room and tried to suppress an amused grin as he haplessly opened drawers and cursed to himself. A few minutes later he made a small noise of triumph and returned, gliding up to her with all his former confidence and pride.

"Try it," he commanded. She put her book down, carefully marking the spot even though she could not see the pages, and gripped the wand.

"_Lumos._"

With only a little hesitation, the wand lit up. Hermione could see it was a long, reedy piece of wood, and it surprised her by performing her next few tests with relative ease. She allowed her grin to make an appearance and then, remembering Malfoy, held the wand up so she could see his face.

"It's true we fought a war together," Draco said suddenly, looking her seriously in the eye, answering her question from before. "On the same side as each other." Hermione didn't know if it was the cold, the lack of sleep or the look in her eyes as she surveyed him that made him speak to her like he trusted her again. The words were falling out of his mouth before he could think to reach out and pull them back. "You could say it was nice to have something like that going for me...to not be alone."

He was quoting her, and from so long ago.

Hermione felt something stir between her ribs as he said it, and she knew he knew he was saying it on purpose. She'd been talking about him as well as the rest of the Order when she said it, more to herself than him, and she wondered if he was referring to the same loneliness she'd felt then. It was just she and him in the Manor here, and it had been just he and her when she'd first said those words in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place.

"Then why did you leave?" She asked, hoping this exhausted state of mind could provide her with answers that kept her awake at night long after Voldemort's followers were dealt with.

Draco turned his eyes to the ground and picked up a book again, dismissing the topic. He was guarded now, his posture a bit more rigid than before. Hermione sighed and opened her book in her lap once more, this time reading easily in her wand light. For a few minutes, nothing but the noise of turning pages filled the space between them.

Hermione breathed suddenly and muttered something to herself. There was no mistaking the excitement in her voice as she straightened her spine and squinted at the book.

"Come again?" Draco said.

"_Annhilare proditorem,_" Hermione repeated. "Quick, look it up."

With a furrowed brow, Draco flipped through the Latin text until he came to the P's and landed on _proditor, -em. _

"It means traitor," he read, trying to piece together the information that had got Hermione so worked up. He looked up expectantly as she pushed her hair over her shoulder. "To annihilate the traitor?"

"You said you'd been fighting those things for days, right? Had you been attacked by them before? Heard them? Did you see anything strange or unusual when you came back for your year of arrest?" Hermione's brain was connecting dots and making connections faster than she could speak. "You said it got _worse_ when I came here?"

"Well, there's never been a real welcome for Muggleborns at Malfoy Manor," Draco said plainly.

"No, or I mean yes, that's not what I mean," she said, waving her hands impatiently, "I came here to release you from your punishment; to set you _free_. What if it's you that's the traitor, and the manor is somehow attacking you because you're no longer supposed to be trapped by the ministry?"

"That's ridicul- "

"So is being chased around by ghostly figures with long white hair, Draco! I told you before, Brutus Malfoy was a cruel pureblood who _studied magic _that attacked_ the 'magically inferior.'_ Last time I checked, Muggleborns and blood traitors were at the top of that list."

"How does that explain why it's targeting me, then?"

"I don't know." It was an honest answer, because Hermione had an idea, but unless he answered her other question, she couldn't be sure.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I very obviously do not own any of the characters, settings or other concepts from JKR's Harry Potter series. Please continue to review, as it helps me build and characterize the story better. Also, I apologize for the wait, but it was necessary to give you a halfway decent chapter! I like my Dramione to build slowly, so I hope you do too...

* * *

Hermione and Draco sat with less than five feet separating their bodies, which were surrounded by the quiet cold of the basement. Hermione was perched beside a large wooden column, and Draco sat back against a covered statue. A dim sliver of moonlight was doing its best to shine through the dusty windows and onto the floor where they sat, allowing her to inspect her surroundings. Hermione could see that more abandoned furniture was strewn across the ancient basement, waiting to be dusted off and given an honored spot in the Malfoy halls once again. She could also see that Draco was having a hard time processing the information they'd just learned. Without being obvious about it, Draco was stealing glances at her book, trying to read upside down rather than shift closer and enter her space.

She quietly drew her fingers away from the pages where they were obstructing certain words, pretending it was just unconscious movement. She swallowed a huff of breath when he looked up at her, understanding her small movement immediately. Suddenly he was standing.

"I'll be back," Draco said authoritatively, brushing imaginary dust from his trousers. "Don't follow me."

"Concerned for my well-being, Malfoy?" she taunted, blinking up at him and brandishing her wand as if he hadn't been the one to give it to her.

"Very," he nodded seriously, looking in her eye again. "I'm terribly worried about all the paperwork some poor sap from the Ministry will get stuck with if you're killed here."

"Since when does your heart bleed for Ministry officials?" she scoffed.

"Since always."

Hermione crossed her arms and appraised him again as he turned to leave. "Fine. Just let me know when you're done running away from me."

She watched Draco's shoulders tighten as he bristled; she expected nothing less. He began to open his mouth and disagree with her, but then he apparently thought better of it and kept walking to the exit. Hermione made a show of rearranging the books at her feet until he disappeared, and then she sagged into the column she sat against.

Hermione was glad to be out of danger and out of Draco's company. There was no way for her to be in the same room with him and focus. He drove her senses crazy. Her mind had to work doubly hard when she was around him; the distrusting wizard spoke one way and acted another. It was hard for Hermione to pay attention when she was distracted, and Draco, despite having left the room completely, was causing her to lose focus again. Hermione tore her eyes from the doorway and re-examined the open pages of the book.

_If only going back upstairs to the library didn't sound like certain death, _she thought. There was only so much a pair of books could tell her, and her fingers itched for a quill and parchment. She didn't suppose the Malfoys left ink and paper in the empty drawers of their basement furniture, though, so she resigned herself to still thought. Perhaps letting her mind drift would bring about some helpful trains of thought.

The basement felt smaller and more reserved now that he was gone. Peace and quiet settled over Hermione, who was growing too sleepy to feel the change. Had she been more alert, she might have noticed the way the air prickled with tension when Draco was near. As it was, she'd been up for twenty hours, and the bursts of adrenaline that had accompanied her earlier terror were wearing off.

Hermione sank further against the wooden beam and let her eyes droop as she examined her new wand. Would Draco let her keep it once she got home? The black walnut felt smooth in her hands, and almost eager to perform more magic. She couldn't explain the feeling, but this wand seemed destined for her.

She turned the dark wood in her fingers and continued to muse. The fact that Draco Malfoy had restored her magic ability was strangely amusing; the irony wasn't lost on her. Two years ago, the Malfoy she knew would have held the wand before her only to laugh and turn away. This one wore the same cold grey eyes and carried the same hard lines in his shoulders, but he had given her a way to defend herself. The present Draco made it difficult for Hermione to get a straight answer, and he was closed off and irritable, but he also spent several minutes digging through Malfoy heirlooms to find her a wand.

Hermione let a heavy sigh settle between her ribs and let the wand fall into her lap. Her dark trousers, which had been neatly pressed when she arrived at work, were now wrinkled and streaked with dust. She smoothed the folds of the fabric and stared at the basement door, willing Draco to walk back through and talk to her.

Hermione pulled her knees to her chest and gathered her fingers loosely together. If she was being honest with herself, the hardest part of facing Draco Malfoy again today was the question that still hung between them. The silence that had followed it was still beating in Hermione's head like a drum. _Why spend a year changing everything about yourself to go back to what you left behind? He'd nearly befriended the twins, for Merlin's sake,_ Hermione thought. It bothered her to think that the worst thing he could have done to her was what he did, leaving her alone with no answers. Then again, she wondered, when was the last time anyone asked him to stay at all?

* * *

Draco tore a hand through his hair as he walked through the basement door, clutching his wand tightly to his chest. Being out of Hermione's sight made him feel more at ease and it allowed him space to think. He knew the house was affecting him, but what was _she_ doing to his mind?

He thought he'd seen the corner of her mouth twitch into a smile just now, right before he left the room. Despite their entire situation, Hermione Granger was finding time to have a laugh at his expense. Draco was _so_ glad he could offer her entertainment. He spent several minutes pacing up and down the hall, trying to decide whether he really wanted to leave the basement in search of answers. No doubt the Gryffindor girl would eventually come to find him eventually. He continued to pace and tell himself that the next time he passed the door, he was walking away.

Draco couldn't hear anything from his position in the back of the house, and even the silence infuriated him. Why in seven _holy_ hells were pureblood spirits tearing his Manor apart? He'd walked inside after being put under house arrest with the same blood running through his veins as before, metaphorically and physically speaking. He was now the Malfoy heir. The very act of coming home was proof of his loyalty to the family name, but then so was his leaving to join the Order.

_Perhaps we can't keep secrets from the dead_.

He passed the door again and slowed, staring at the finely carved wood. Groaning quietly to himself, Draco heaved it open and stepped back into the basement to face Hermione again. Maybe she wouldn't be so antagonistic if he gave her an opportunity to tag along.

"Terrible news, Granger, I'm still alive, " Draco called flatly as he walked over to her spot on the floor. She didn't even raise her head to look at him as he entered. "That upset about it? Don't worry, I'm sure another night stuck here with you will - "

Hermione's head lolled a bit, and Draco then understood she was asleep. His eyebrows shot up automatically as he took in her strange posture; Hermione was leaned up against the wooden pillar for and her knees were raised to her chest, making her look quite small. _If only she was like this when she was awake,_ Draco thought. Without anything better to do, he chose a spot on the floor and lowered himself to the ground, taking the book she still held in her hand and settling it in his lap.

"_Lumos_." Draco lit his own wand before ending the spell that kept hers lit and began to read, stealing only the most necessary glances at her in between chapters. A shaft of moonlight cut across her face, making her nose seem more pointed than it really was. Her eyelashes darkened the skin under her eyes, which were already ringed with blue from sleeplessness. All in all, she looked a bit ghostly herself. For a moment he was struck with surprise at the familiarity of her features until he remembered several long nights at Grimmauld Place, when his eyes often matched her own.

Draco didn't know how she had always managed to find him in that kitchen. He hadn't sleep consistent hours then, and hadn't exactly laid out a schedule for her to learn. He never found out what she was doing wandering the halls of Grimmauld Place at night, and it bothered him. Surely she didn't get up out of bed just to sit with him for minutes at a time. What was the point? The Hermione _he_ had seen did nothing without a purpose. She attended meetings and tended to the wounded, but she didn't normally make small talk when there was something better she could be doing.

He felt the impulse to look her way again, as he was getting nowhere with her book. Draco glanced up and watched as a small section of hair tumbled down her cheek. It, too, seemed a little blue and lifeless in the glow of the night, and Draco had to grip his book tightly to keep from reaching out. She moaned a little in her sleep all of a sudden, and he impulsively leaned in closer to hear what she was saying.

"Staring mindlessly at sleeping women is a pastime of criminals and perverts, you know."

Draco startled, leaning back and looking at his book with a new determination.

"I like you better this way," he commented lightly, ignoring her jab.

"Oh? How's that?" she mumbled, keeping her eyes shut as she spoke.

"Unconscious and incapable of endless questioning. You were moaning my name, by the way."

"I was not," she breathed, turning her head to the other side and slipping an elbow under her cheek.

"Don't be embarrassed, Granger," he replied, tossing his hand in the air as if she could see him. "Although keep it down, I am trying to concentrate."

She gave no response, and Draco returned his full attention to the book in his hands. A sudden hunch came over him, and he flipped back to find the contents without marking his or Hermione's place. Latin wasn't his strong suit, and he had a feeling that some of the Malfoy ancestors had felt similarly.

"_Aparecium_." Draco slowly flipped the content pages, waiting for writing to appear. Someone had scrawled a short phrase in the margin, and it looked very spell-like. "_Legibilis Latinum."_

Draco hurriedly flipped through the book and watched as the letters began to melt and twist around on their pages. In time, it was as if he was holding an entirely new book. He glanced at Hermione again for a moment, allowing himself a congratulatory smirk. By the time she woke up, he hoped to know something she didn't.

* * *

As it turned out, Brutus Malfoy was every bit as evil as Hermione had described. _That old portrait in the upstairs hall does him no justice_, Draco thought as he skimmed past another sadistically-detailed description of seventeenth-century torture. Brutus Malfoy had performed a number of magical experiments on Muggles and Muggleborns for years. Draco felt the corners of his mouth drop into a frown as he stole another glimpse of the sleeping girl. He was having a difficult time reading without imagining her in the place of those seemingly innocent victims. He didn't like the sour, metallic feeling that was rising up in his throat, but he continued. There had to be _something _valuable in this book._  
_

Draco's eyes were growing heavier with each paragraph, but he'd promised himself he'd stay awake until he found something helpful. The turn of the century came and went before he found a worthy passage.

"Granger," he hissed, poking her shoulder with the book. "Stop sleeping. Granger!"

"Are you going to throw it at me next? What am I, Moaning Myrtle?"

"How do you - nevermind. While you were snoring and drooling, I found something useful. There," he said, tossing the book to her. "Chapter seventeen."

He leaned forward and held his wand out, attempting to read upside-down as she opened the book. Her eyes darted back and forth rhythmically, and he found himself unconsciously moving closer to her face so they both could see.

"So it's almost the opposite of the Patronus spell," Hermione mused, straightening up and pushing the book into to the light. As she moved, her arm brushed faintly against the side of Draco's elbow and a bolt of static shocked them both. Hermione's eyes shot up to his in alarm before she quickly rearranged herself and continued. "The Patronus charm is designed to protect its familiar and to travel where it sees harm being done...within a certain range, of course. Depending on the circumstances and the wizard casting the Patronus, it can be quite powerful. This says your ancestor did something similar, but with the opposite result?"

"Why do you have to say it like that? '_Your' _ancestor, as if I had anything to do with it," Draco complained, pulling the wand back so she couldn't see. "You can hardly hold me responsible for every Malfoy's actions."

"No, I guess I can't," she sighed, looking at him earnestly. Draco begrudgingly held the light aloft again. "_This_ Malfoy created a spell that moves to create harm where it sees good. It fed off of chaos and dark emotions, and it reacted whenever a muggleborn or muggle was around."

"Good old sport, that Brutus. Clear eye for detail."

"Apparently," Hermione nodded, cringing at the vivid descriptions on the page. "This says that objects from the traitors' households would perform the attacks. Weaponry, ancient statues...even pieces of furniture. Why are the things chasing us members of your family?"

Draco thought for a moment, glancing around the room as if the answer sat nestled between those dusty old picture frames. A humorless grin lit up his face when he realized it did.

"Magical portraits. They've been mutinous since I returned for my house arrest. If that curse has been sitting dormant in this house for centuries, it might have bled into the paintings."

"It's certainly possible," Hermione said, nodding. Draco straightened up and held his wand in her face. "What?"

"You've just agreed with me, and without any shame or sarcasm," he said in reply, staring at her oddly. His face was almost too close to hers now.

"Well don't be too excited about it," she said, pushing his wand out of her face and marking their spot in the book. "I've just agreed that your dead family is trying to kill us using dark magic that probably has no known counter curse."

That being said, Draco felt it was the perfect time to celebrate the bright side of things. For starters, he thought he quite liked the sound of her voice and the shape of her lips when she was agreeing with him.


End file.
